rewrite the ending
by Strawberrygold
Summary: "It was the strange familiarity of the situation that made Susan realize where she was. It felt as if she once again stood by the phone, trembling hands stretching for it, the remaining hope dying at her fingertips, the moment before she lost it all." Susan finally gets her happy ending, but how can you simply move on from ages of grief and suffering?
1. Chapter 1

The first thing she noticed when Susan opened her eyes was the flowers in a vase on the nightstand. They were in the shape of a bell, with soft white petals with a hint of pink at the edges, the flowers embraced by long green strands. For a moment, Susan simply gazed at their beauty, her head resting on soft pillow. A soft breath. But then a sense of wrongness crept in, the bed was too big, too soft. The light making its way through the room was too bright. And the flowers, there were no flowers like that in either America or England.

At once, Susan became carefully aware of her surroundings and of herself. She slowly rose from her position in the bed, her eyes searching and scanning for some kind of sign that could explain where she was. The bedroom, or perhaps bedchamber might be a better fitting word for it, was huge with a considerable fireplace, lilac armchairs and cushions, books scattered across the room, and a balcony, it's view visible from the bed.

Susan slowly rose from the bed, her eyes on the shimmering sea outside. A soft morning breeze had made its way into the room and caressed Susan's face. Her hand went to grasp her necklace but her hand only met her neck. She stopped. She wasn't wearing her cross. It seemed terribly important.

She turned to a mirror in the corner of the room. Her neck was empty. She was wearing a dress, a soft green that fell to her ankles. _When had she ever worn anything other than black._ Her hair was surprisingly long and surprisingly dark, although Susan could not understand why either was surprising. She met her own eyes in the mirror and it was the strange familiarity of the situation that made Susan realize where she was. It felt as if she once again stood by the phone, trembling hands stretching for it, the remaining hope dying at her fingertips, the moment before she lost it all. Repressed memories and whispered doubts made their way to the surface as Susan again turned to the balcony and understood where she was. _Narnia_.

It didn't answer the question of when and why she was here. But she didn't want to spend more time than necessary in the unfamiliar room so she picked up a comb with sharp edges and hid it in her hand. _Better than nothing._

Susan carefully grasped the door handle and opened the chamber door. She stuck her head out, glancing up and down the hall. She didn't see anyone. Letting out a breath, she stepped out and closed the door behind her. _What next?_ She didn't recognize the hallway, nor was there any clue visible. Light fell through a window further down the hall, so Susan made her way there. A guard appeared just as she was about to reach the window. The guard bowed his head at Susan, and she tried to smile, to act normal and casual, even though she had never been this lost before. At least, never been this lost, alone, before.

The guard passed her and Susan reached the window and gazed at the green view that greeted her. And as if someone wanted to play with her, just as Susan recognized the forest outside, chatter could be heard behind her and Susan turned to see her baby brother. She dropped the comb. He was gesturing with his hands, clad in a purple tunic and suddenly it hurt. _Half-finished books, games of chess, messy bed, "identify him for us, miss", glares, quick hugs, green forests, laughter, brown hair against black._

"Edmund," Susan screeched, running towards her, now alarmed, brother, and throwing her arms around him, silencing her half-screams into his shoulders. The pain came back in full, and Susan couldn't hold him closer, couldn't remove the ache even if she never let him go and for a moment it drowned her. It felt as if she would die of it. She cried into his shoulders, gasping for air and begging for the pain to stop.

"Su," Edmund said, alarmed and confused. "What's wrong?"

But Susan couldn't do anything but cry, decades of pain rolling onto her, regrets flying up to the surface and words she never said choked her. It took them almost half an hour to convince her to let go.

A doctor inspected her, with kind eyes and an understanding face. He didn't mind Edmund's pacing and Susan's difficulty at answering his questions. He carefully cradled Susan's face, and studied it. Susan knew she must look insane. And she wasn't completely sure that she wasn't. The rush of emotion had drained her. The doctor asked her subtle questions, about recent events and then about her memory. But Susan didn't feel safe enough to tell them that she had no idea where she was, or why she was there. In the end, the doctor gave her a tea and told her to take it carefully. He'd be in touch.

Edmund led her out in the corridor and, with a surprisingly gentle touch to the small of her back, led her down the corridor. Susan sipped her tea and let herself be led. She felt exhausted, but didn't want to part from her brother, because the last time she had, it had been the last time she'd even seen him. She wanted to ask, but was afraid to concern him even more.

"Are you certain that everything's fine, Su?"

She sighed, but nodded at the floor, not having the energy to meet his eyes.

"Really," he dragged out the word. "Because the last time I saw you this hysterical, you were with child, and that day was chaos."

 _With child?_ For a second she was thrown off, and her breath hitched, but as if her brain decided that it couldn't handle anything else today, she shook it off. _Deal with it later._ Edmund stopped outside a door, and sent Susan a look she couldn't read. "Okay, so I may have sent word and told him what happened and he asked us to come here... "

"Yes?" Susan prodded when Edmund trailed off.

Edmund sighed, "Peter's in there, but I need to be sure that it won't be a reprise of what just happened, okay?"

 _Golden hair, golden smile, squeezing her hand, shared worries, shared responsibilities, a neatly done bed, a farewell note, studies, countless books on the floor, maps, kings and queens and queens and kings, a golden sun._

"I'll be fine."

Edmund opened the door and the moment Susan saw her older brother, she sank to the floor crying.

"Our definitions of the word 'fine' seem to differ, Susan."

Susan chuckled meekly at Edmund's sarcastic comment, her head resting on Peter's' shoulder, his arm around her. Deep in thought, Peter absently stroked her arm. Susan closed her eyes and tried to swallow the grief that still sat so hard in her chest. But if anything, she was tired. The emotional and confusing happenings of the still early day had left her in a tired, and drained bubble. Peter had handled Susan's breakdown better than Edmund, he was immediately at her side and managed to comfort her, without knowing what was wrong, and also coax her into the room and getting her to breathe evenly again. Edmund had meanwhile stood beside them, a bit awkwardly, looking slightly lost and out of place. Susan understood the feeling.

Peter shifted beside her, "Su, did something happen?"

She opened her eyes and found his. His eyes were easier to meet. He understood. Maybe not this though. Susan shook her head. Peter's eyebrows wrinkled.

"You sure can be a bit dramatic, and you've been hysterical at times, but nothing like Ed describes. Something must be amiss."

"Well, except that time last year when she d-"

Edmund was silenced with a look from Peter and Susan felt an overwhelming need to laugh, because she had no idea what Edmund was referring to, why she was overreacting, and why she was here. She had no idea why both her brothers were alive in front of her. But in that moment, Susan decided that it was quite enough. For now, she would be satisfied sitting there with her brothers. Explanations, answers could come tomorrow. For now, it was enough.

"You know what," she said, a lot more quiet and tired than she had planned. "We can talk about it tomorrow. I'm so tired right now. Let me sleep, and then we'll talk."

Edmund nodded and jumped to his feet, stretching his hand out. "Want me to walk you back to your room?"

Susan made to stand up, but didn't get far before her legs went out and Peter's grip on her arm tightened. Her older brother shook his head. "You can sleep here for now, Su. It'll be alright."

Susan nodded and let herself be half led, half carried to the bed by her brothers. She felt a lump in her throat, when they bid her goodnight. ("Or well, good day." " _Ed_.") _Please be here when I wake up. I cannot bear it if you're not._ Before she fell asleep, she heard the birds chirping outside.

A man was sitting at the edge of the bed, making shushing noises to something in his arms, when Susan woke up. She first thought the dark-haired man was Edmund, but the latter's hair wasn't as long, or as brown. Her body recognized him before her brain did and her heart was beating, goosebumps evident on her arms, and a sudden fear and ache appeared in her belly, when he glanced back at her, then turning completely when noticing that she was awake. He smiled at her.

At once, Susan was afraid. But the thing that made her cry this time, wasn't the concerned look on his face, not the crown on his head, or the noticeable ageing he had done since she last saw him. It wasn't his Telmarine eyes that threw her off. It was the brown-haired baby in his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

The silence in the room was overwhelming. Peter was pacing, looking as concerned as ever, at the foot of the bed. Caspian, and the baby in his arms, sat beside Susan, with a respectable distance between the first two and the latter. Edmund was resting against the wooden pillar on the right side of the bed. And Susan sat in the corner with her arms around her legs, refusing to look any of them in the eye.

Susan had broken down, once again, when Caspian had said her name. But when she flinched away when he tried to comfort her, and when her breathing had quickened alarmingly, he had in his desperation to help called for a doctor and her brothers. The doctor had counted her breaths with her, and when her brothers burst in, he had given her some tea and told her to get some more sleep. Susan was tired of tea. So here they were, the men desperate for answers, and Susan still too scared to give them.

The baby made a noise, and Susan slightly flinched. They all noticed.

"Susan," Caspian started, and Susan felt as a stranger in her body. "Love, won't you tell us what's wrong?"

Susan snook a glance up at Peter at the affectionate word Caspian used but Peter only looked inquiringly at Susan. She opened her mouth, and whispered her answer to her older brother, "I don't know what is happening."

Peter leaned forward, "That's fine, Su. But wouldn't it help if you told us? We could help you."

Susan gazed out the window at the left side of the room, the sun reflecting the sea outside the castle. The sea. Edmund followed her gaze, "Lucy returned some time ago, she's on her way."

Susan snapped her head to Edmund, startling him. _Long braids, flying colours, laughter, soft whispers, sharing beds, screams, comfort, soft silk dresses, tight hugs, kisses on cheeks, swimming, soft brown, green eyes._

But when Lucy opened the door and stepped in, Susan didn't cry. She only took a shallow breath and opened her arms. Lucy never disappointed. Susan held her sister for a long time, breathing into her long hair while steadying her breathing. Lucy didn't let her go, but lay down beside Susan, resting her head on Susan's chest and it was as if the weight on it was all Susan needed to breathe again. She squeezed her sister's hand. _I'm so so sorry._

"Su, tell us what's wrong," her sister said. Susan answered her.

"You died."

––––––––––––

" _Three years_?"

Lucy nodded, amusement in her eyes at Susan's disbelief. The two sisters stood alone on the balcony facing the east. Susan let her back fall against the railing and dragged her hands down her face.

"You two got engaged pretty quickly after the coronation," Lucy added and grinned at the noise Susan made.

The coronation. That was something Susan remembered. Barely. She remembered a crush, an infatuation with the Telmarine, newly-turned, king. Not a wish for marriage. It had been far more important things on her mind back then than what their simple flirting would lead to. Looking through her fingers at Lucy, in exaggerated horror, she asked, "How long after?"

Lucy grinned, "Three months."

Susan groaned.

Lucy laughed, "I'll be honest, Su. A big part of the marriage was political, to unite the Telmarines and Narnians. But neither you or Caspian minded, and during your three years of marriage, you certainly grew closer."

When Susan didn't reply, Lucy added, "That's not so bad, is it? He loves you."

"But I don't love him, Lu. The last thing I remember of him, or us, is leaving his coronation to never return here. Not love or marriage."

A shadow crossed Lucy's face, "I can't imagine what that must feel like."

 _You used to._ Susan had only told them a little bit of her story, she'd told them about the coronation, leaving Narnia with Peter for the last time, her moving to America, of Eustace and of their death. But she kept it brief to keep her secrets. She didn't say that when Lucy died, she hadn't spoken to her sister in months, that when Edmund died he had barely been able to stand her company. Not that by the time Peter was dead, the relationship between the two oldest had been shattered for months. She didn't tell them why she wasn't on the train with them, why she survived. Why she got left behind.

They hadn't asked, either, trusting her truth and trusting her. She wasn't used to that. Not used to loving caresses and comforting words. Not used to **being** able to take her time. They wondered, but they trusted blindly that time would provide answers. Meanwhile Susan had spent a lifetime with no answers.

Susan looked back at Lucy and reached out her hand. Lucy grasped it, no hesitation, no confusion, no wondering why her sister was seeking contact. _I let myself lose this._ "Lu?"

And her sister only nodded, her full attention on Susan, no anger or betrayal or hurt in her eyes, only love and concern.

"I am terrified that this will end," Susan whispered.

"End how?"

Susan let out a shaky breath and spilled the contents of her heart, the fear festering deep in there, "That I'll wake up tomorrow and you'll be dead and I'll be alone. I cannot live with being alone."

Lucy answered immediately, her faith evident in her words, "I believe you, we all believe your story, how odd it may seem. But you're here for a reason, Su. Aslan brought you here for something. And he's not cruel."

But Lucy had no idea how cruel lions could be, should they wish to. To be punished for moving on. To be punished for growing up. To be punished for knowing it would end. That's where Susan and Lucy differed, Lucy enjoyed it while it lasted while Susan could never truly be at peace, not with knowing that it would one day be over. And Susan didn't put it above someone who'd snatched a young girl's entire family away from her to give the girl everything she wanted only to remove it from her grasp again.

"I don't believe that, Lucy. I'm sorry."

Lucy put a hand to Susan's cheek, "Don't be. I'll believe for you."

The lack of disappointment in her eyes, and the presence of love, made Susan's eyes fill with tears. She cleared her throat, "Let's figure out the truth?"

Lucy grinned, "Here's what happened…"

They had stayed in Narnia after Caspian's coronation, no lion or talk of age that forced them back. Susan and Caspian had married three months afterwards and, with her siblings staying as advisors, they had claimed the throne. A year after a baby girl had been born, who Caspian put forward as his heir. Considering all, Susan noted from Lucy's tone, they were in a good place right now. Susan had a hard time believing her.

They spent an hour piecing the truth together. Afterwards Susan only had one question.

"The baby?"

But Lucy shook her head, "You need to speak with him, first."

Susan didn't like the thought of it, but she knew, in her heart and head, that Lucy was right. She closed her eyes and simply focused on her breathing, needing herself to stay calm. Keeping her eyes closed, Susan opened her arms and Lucy stepped into them. Susan ran her hands through her little sister's hair, "Look at you, Lucy, comforting me… You've grown."

"I fit into my dresses now."

Finally, a joke she understood. Lucy whispered in her ear before letting go, "Perhaps the answer to your question is the answer to another…"

"Stop trying to sound smart, Lu."

The wind laughed along with her sister, "Why are you here, Susan?"

––––––

"Lucy said you asked for me?"

He was cautious, Susan noticed, as she turned to face him. His face was guarded, body tense, standing at a respectable distance from her. He was afraid. _Wouldn't I be too, had the love of my life suddenly screamed at the sight of me?_ Not knowing what else to do, Susan smiled at him. His face fell.

"Yes," Susan answered, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "Walk with me?"

They walked through the gardens in silence, the married strangers. _I must be a stranger to him too,_ Susan thought, _He lost the Susan he knew._ The last thing Susan remembered of their relationship, if you could even call it that, was that it was intense, sweet, and over quite too soon. A kiss. A kiss that supposedly led to a marriage, a throne and a baby girl.

"Lucy also mentioned that for you, the last memory you have of us is from the coronation," Caspian said, as steadily as Susan. "Is that right?"

"Yes," Susan replied. "We kissed."

Caspian frowned, "We didn't."

It seemed terribly important. "Then what happened?"

"You met all my glances throughout the night and by the time my tired self had made it's way back to my chamber, you helped me get into bed. Not exactly romantic."

Susan laughed slightly at that, watching Caspian smile in fondness of the memory. He didn't seem embarrassed.

"Well," Susan said, looking away from him. "I am not that girl I was back then, and you are certainly not that boy."

Caspian smirked slightly at that and Susan caught herself, running over what she'd said in her mind.

"You've changed a lot since, my lady. You've grown in many ways."

Susan looked away, not ready for compliments, until the innuendo in his words hit her. She stopped and glared, refusing to laugh with him. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, you forget yourself."

He laughed, seeing right through her, and a strange feeling appeared in Susan's stomach. Longing, loneliness, or simply the feeling of being known, something familiar in a stranger. She didn't hide her smile.

"I apologize," Caspian said, his smile competing with the sun, before growing serious, "What do you want to do?"

 _Oh._ "I was hoping you would have the answers for that, honestly."

"I cannot choose for you."

"In a better world…"

"No," Caspian interrupted her, "Better world or not, we're in this one and this is happening. We can't change that. We can't control it. The only thing we can do is choose how we react to this, how we deal with it."

It was such a comfort to be included in a 'we' again. And he spoke of them as a team, as a duo. Deal with it together. Marriage. Susan suddenly understood it more and less that she ever had before.

"I don't know. I think I need time." Caspian nodded at that. Susan added, "But I'm scared that I have none."

Caspian grasped her hand, "You do, Susan. You're scared to be snatched from this place without a moment's notice, just as you described your family was snatched from you. But we have your back here, we won't let them take you."

And maybe Caspian wasn't talking about Aslan, maybe he did or didn't understand the true depth behind her fear, but something in his words made her feel safer than she had since she woke up next to bell-shaped flowers this morning. "Baby steps?"

A flicker of something passed over his face but he nodded, "Baby steps."

They walked in silence for a while. Caspian seemed to have an internal struggle, but Susan somewhere inside knew that the best thing to do was to wait for him to figure it out. They had reached the outskirts of the garden by the time he spoke.

"Speaking of..." he started, looking up from the ground and meeting her eyes, "Speaking of baby steps. Do you want to meet her?"

Susan's heart answered before her mind even had the time to think, "Yes."

––––––

She was lying in the cot, eyes blue and bright, watching her mother slowly approach her. She laughed when Susan stood above her, and seeing someone light up like that at the sight of her made a small part of Susan heal.

She reached down with a hand, hesitating centimeters from her daughter. In the end, it was the baby who reached up with a tiny hand and grasped Susan's finger. For the first time in a very long time, since before lions and wardrobes, wars and death, perhaps the first time in her life, Susan cried of happiness.


End file.
